Willpower
by MilkywayScribbles
Summary: Being lost in the woods is never a picnic. Especially when the symptoms of close quarters and a string of bad luck leads to a footling of nitpicks... When a provocation of bets arise, who will go the farthest to prove the other one wrong? It can mean only one thing- war. Comedy. Slight Pokeshipping. Johto League. Original trio and J,J,&M featured.


**Author's Note:** Long time, no see! :) To old readers welcome back; to new ones welcome aboard! Hope you all are doing well this summer!

I decided after a long hiatus to start things off with a new short story! This one will most likely consist of five chapters in total. I cannot promise how often updates will be, but I would like to meet my goal of having this short story finished by the end of the year. Furthermore, though I am currently writing this story, that does not mean I have abandoned my unfinished stories. I am still working on them when I have the time.

As for this story, I wrote this back in the spring as part of a birthday gift for my beta reader and seeing how much she enjoyed the overall concept and first chapter, I decided to continue with it. This short story takes place in Johto as it is my friend's favorite league. I decided to explore both the characters' often shown faults/weaknesses that have been addressed/seen in the series, with, of course, a healthy dusting of comedy. ;) The idea of this story came about after watching an episode of _Three's Company_ where the characters make bets to see who can withstand longest without a particular want, craving, etc. I thought how much fun it would be for Ash, Misty, and Brock to have a test of willpower of their own! :) And let's not forget about our favorite Team Rocket trio either! All are making bets... Let's see if anyone prevails!

**GENRE:** Humor/General

**RATING: **T for minor crude humor.

**SUMMARY:** Being lost in the woods is never a picnic. Especially when the symptoms of close quarters and a string of bad luck leads to a footling of nitpicks... When a provocation of bets arise, who will go the farthest to prove the other one wrong? It can mean only one thing- war. Comedy. Slight Pokeshipping. Johto League. Original trio and J,J,&M featured.

**DISCLAIMER: **_Pokémon_ belongs to Satoshi Tajiri/_Nintendo_.

* * *

** Willpower**

Part One

With the bright and sunny conditions of the early morning hours, most would predict a rain absentee carefree summer day.

For Misty, however, the day was already off to a tiring, busy, and annoyingly predictable start. As soon as daylight touched the Johto hills, Ash Ketchum had done yet another disappearing act. Arms filled with a loaded basket of dirty clothes, he was instructed to wash the laundry in a nearby river while Misty and Brock stayed behind at base camp. But that was nearly two hours ago. Surely, the redhead thought, it wouldn't take her messy-haired friend that long to wring out a few shirts and pants, bringing the wet garments back to hang on the clothesline she prepped in advance.

Knowing how Ash worked, she could only imagine what he got into this time. Since they departed Ecruteak City, their traveling days had been nothing but distractions, woes, fueling tempers, and strings of bad luck. Traveling hours were impulsively wasted on an assortment of pokemon battles so frequent that on some nights they were met with a yawning indifferent Nurse Joy telling them that Pokemon Center was full and closed. The unfortunate event where they could not sleep in a warm cozy center happened often, but when they were in a town or city, arrangements should have been made to reserve them a room. Arrangements Misty insisted should be made first and foremost before exploring their new surroundings. Sometimes, she wondered if she was nothing more to Ash Ketchum then a nagging broken record on repeat.

Once exiting the last town they visited, the road ahead was bustling with an abundance of trainers. A streak of ten wins for one on one battles in a row left Ash with glowing pride that was turning into sheer boastful foolishness. His imperceptive premature pomposity left Misty embarrassed for him. She did not want to dash his passion for battling, but it was getting a little out of hand. Listening to his magniloquent speeches was one thing, but watching it unfold was another. The puffed-up chest, the head held high and sucking every little drip out of a compliment a fellow trainer gave riled her with incurable annoyance.

She knew his spirit, his persistence, his taste for adventure were forever embedded, and were in most instances, admirable qualities. Ash had a great sense of compassion and bravery and it was on these journeys were they lent a helping hand did Misty witness how wonderful of a heart her friend carried. As of late, however... Did his imprudent nature have to overshadow the importance of consideration among others? When Ash was on a high of good fortune within battles it was as if he had blinders on, forgetting his own responsibilities among the group, leaving them to the wayside. For the last few days, Misty felt as if she was switching titles between friend, to nurse, to mother, to babysitter... It was getting old.

And now here she was, first gathering firewood for Brock to cook breakfast, then feeding the awaiting chattering pokemon,_ then_ collecting their camping equipment so they could head out after eating- what was she there for? To clean up after his mess? In her heart, she knew Ash wasn't the kind of person to exploit someone for their own personal gain. That sounded more like a Gary Oak philosophy of life. Still, would it kill him to ruminate over his actions? To take heed of the expectations of growing up? Of being a more responsible, discipline, and controlled trainer?

But that time had yet to come. Much to her prediction, she and Brock waited for him to return, now _waiting_ to eat. A low groan slipped from Misty's throat as the impatience and fury of it all devoured her, much like her gurgling starving stomach.

"Where is he?" she moaned loudly as she stared at the bushes in where Ash had initially departed. Wiping the first start of expecting sweat from her forehead, she kicked a loose clump of dirt from under her red tennis shoes. Another groan emerged. "The oatmeal is going to be overcooked!"

"I'm sure he'll be back soon enough, Misty," Brock replied, looking up at her and then back to his slowly steaming oats.

"Just our luck he got lost and can't find his way back," she continued anyway, dismissing her friend's attempt at reassurance.

Being privy to Ash's innocent but pesky childish antics, the older trainer could sympathize with his friend's frustrations. He wasn't having a picnic either. Facing the habitual conditions of the forest, it was inevitable they would get on each other's nerves, start picking each other apart over the silliest of reasons. They needed civilization desperately. Time out of the blaring sun's rays, the unbearable humidity, the sweltering heat, and some time to explore separately, to cool off for a good couple of hours. Until then, however, he would have to keep a level head even among Misty's grousing and Ash's perpetually carefree mind.

"Listen, I know we've all been on edge lately and Ash has been a bit of handful- still," he mused with a light smile, focusing upward on the shining rays above, "we can't think the absolute worst. Today's a new day, we gotta expect the best. And you know he isn't doing this on purpose," he assuaged with care.

It didn't take long before a begrudgingly yet agreeable huff fell from the girl's lips. The tightness in her shoulders and arms relaxed, sea-green eyes softening for the first time in days. "I know. I don't even like to be hard on him. It's just sometimes..." She shook her head. "You know what? You're right. But if he's not back in five minutes, we're going to eat!"

A light chuckle fell from Brock's mouth. "Fair enough. But I think he'll be back sooner than you expect."

At the heightened anticipation of his voice, Misty followed the motioning of her friend's hand and head. Before her she could see a violent rustling of bushes, leaves scattering to the ground as the presence drew closer to the campsite. At a neck-breaking pace, Ash burst through the wild shrubbery, panting heavily with Pikachu nestled on his shoulders. Misty and Brock rose to their feet, immediately taken in by their friend's out of breath state and his disheveled appearance.

"Guys, guys, guys!" the boy blurted before they got a chance to inquire first. "You wouldn't believe what I just saw!"

Misty, however, did not share in his sudden enthusiasm. Instead, she placed a hand on her hip, leaned her upper body forward and studied him like an irritated yet somehow worried mother. "Ash Ketchum, where have you been? And where's the laundry?" she asked.

"Oh." Ash blinked, looking down at his obviously empty hands. He then sweat-dropped, rubbing the back of his head with a lighthearted chortle. "I guess from all the excitement I kinda forgot it."

"You _forgot_ it?" Misty said, dumbfounded. "Ash, do you understand the necessity of a woman's undergarment?!"

"Chill out, Misty," he waved to ease her rising temper. He then cocked a cheeky grin and snickered. "Nobody is gonna steal your granny panties." The initial uncovering of the blue frilly fully covered undies endorsed a fit of tearful immature laughter that took minutes to recover from. But he wasn't going to let her know that. He wasn't that stupid.

A deep growl slipped from the redhead's throat, her face red as a tomato as she charged at him with a prepped coiled fist ready to take a swing. "Are you _asking_ to have your face permanently rearranged?"

Ash hunched himself into his shoulders and arched backward, spooked by the volatile promise inches away from his nose. Though he knew the impending knuckle sandwich was not for him, Pikachu took the liberty to depart his master's shoulder and joined a happily chirping Togepi covered with remnants of pokechow.

"Easy, Misty," Brock urged, now standing beside the pair. He had just brought her perspective back down to earth. It was far too early in the morning to throw himself in the middle of a bloodbath over the loss of panties. Calmly, Brock shifted his focus onto his young male friend. "Ash, what happened to make you forget the laundry?"

A smile beamed from Ash's face. "It was awesome, Brock!" he exclaimed with pumped fists. "I saw a shiny pokemon!"

Brock gaped. "You're kidding? No way! First Noctowl and now another?"

"Yeah! It was a spinarak! It was this really cool blue with some red-pinky colors to it!"

So that's what took him so long. Like any other passionate trainer, Misty was fascinated at the idea of encountering a shiny pokemon. But a spinarak... It, among several other bug pokemon, was Misty's bete noire as Dracula was to sunlight!

"That's nice, Ash," Misty grimaced, lowering her fist with a scowl. "You forgot our laundry for a stupid bug! You better not have caught it!"

Ash dipped his head downward, the bitter taste of defeat returning to remind him of the mishap. "That was the depressing part. It got away. I was hoping to catch it and send it to Prof. Oak but it was way too fast for us to keep up. Pikachu and I were _so close_ to capturing it when it crawled right down a cliff! We would have fallen ourselves if I hadn't let go of the laundry basket-"

"WHAT?! You said you_ forgot_ it, not _lost_ it!"

Slowly, a large gulp slid down Ash's throat. "Well, I mean-"

"ASH!"

The booming of her explosive tone was comparable to cry of a gyarados's dragon rage. His eyes dashed from side to side, his fingers twiddling at the wrath of her prophesized castigating. Yes. He had twisted his words just a bit to get the chance to elucidate the fascinating discovery he had made. The story was too enticing to tell that he managed to flub up and reveal the very detail he had purposefully intended to leave out. Still, Ash supposed the questioning of the laundry would lead to endless hounding, then to its ultimate reveal. But did Misty have to be so outraged by the misfortune? For days on end she had been an utter sourpuss, and he couldn't understand why.

"I'm sorry!" the boy eventually blurted. "It really was an accident! I mean it was a shiny pokemon after all," he tried to persuade. "It's not something you see every day!"

"That's beside the point, Ash!" Misty retorted with adamancy. "You only had one thing to do this morning. _One_. And you couldn't even do that!"

"Why are you so mad about it?" Ash made a face. "I told you, it was an accident!"

"_Mad_?" she echoed with a twitching eyebrow.

Ash could feel the heated sting flick off Misty's tongue. Her voice rose with an irritated octave, much like a suspecting mother, ready to pounce and scold her deceitful child. With each poke, her pressure points against his chest deepened, aggravating the cornered preteen.

"You go gallivanting off all morning while Brock and I stay behind to do the chores!"

"I wasn't gallivanting! I was out looking for pokemon!"

Misty snorted, folding her arms across her chest. She should have expected such a retort. "With a comment like that, I guess I can rule out the 'playing dumb' card."

The insult to his intelligence hit hard, intensifying the provocation in his voice and facial expression. "Hey! You know, you're not so perfect yourself, Misty! All you do is whine, whine, and- on wait. WHINE!" he roared sarcastically. "When anything goes wrong or it's just not right, you start complaining!"

"Why do you think I'm 'whining' and 'complaining', Ash?" she challenged in return, not denying her mood had been in the most irritable state as of late. "Maybe it's because you get distracted so easily we can't get anything productive done! Last time I checked, it's been days since you took your turn feeding the pokemon or collecting camping supplies. All you wanna do is battle and show off! This just goes to show you have no self-control!"

"I sure can't say you have much self-control either!" he retaliated as if he was already loaded with an arsenal of comebacks, stored away for a future dispute. "You don't know how to keep your mouth shut! All you do is criticize and complain about every little thing! Besides, I have to train for more badges, Misty. I don't have time to do everything else!"

A raw nerve was immediately hit, provoking another sharp eyebrow and hiss. "Oh, so Brock and I can just pick up _all_ the slack while you have all the fun? That's not what we're here for, Ash!"

"I never said you were!" he defended, angered by her twisting his words.

"Well, it sure sounds like you just did!"

"Well, you uh-" What was he to do now? In a fit of mitigation to his bungle of the laundry, he had dug himself a considerably deep hold. To a point, he knew there was a ring of truth in Misty's claims, but that was no excuse for her to bite his head off. She was his friend, the best one at that. But when the fire of her temper matched the color of her hair, she was most the most unreasonable creature he had laid eyes on.

"What's the matter, Mr. Pokemon Master?" Misty leaned in as if she was going in for the kill. "Tongue-tied?"

The snarky remark sent Ash to a whole new level of desperation. He turned his attention to the one person who wanted no part in the current debacle. Perhaps it was cowardly. Even so, he wasn't completely to blame for their latest tribulations.

With an extended pointed finger, the trainer blurted, "Brock is just as guilty as me!"

Immediately he was matched with an utterly baffled look, shaking his head in disbelief at how Ash, in a state of panic, turned the tables on him. _Him._ The innocent party, minding his own business, who desperately wanted for the squabbling to stop before his oatmeal went to a total sticky mushy clump of oats and overcooked cranberries.

"What?" Brock gawked, holding his hands up. "Hold on a second, Ash-"

"What about that girl from a couple of days ago?" Ash made sure to remind. He wasn't the only one going down! "If it wasn't for him falling for her trick, we wouldn't have lost our map _and_ we wouldn't have gotten lost!"

"And the last of our allowance from Mrs. Ketchum," Misty added sourly.

He froze, midway through his thought and crawled back into the dark, pitiful, and embarrassing recesses of his mind. Yes. It wasn't Brock's most shining moment. Deeper into the woods had fallen lovesick, once again, with an indescribable beauty during one of Ash's matches. The moment she spoke he was intoxicated by a scenic specimen of the south. Her Southern Belle charm accompanied by an overdone blue sundress and matching umbrella stole the breeder-to-be's heart. Her tale of wandering the woods for days with not a kind word from a single soul, awakened the inner prince charming, howling to be released. Yes, he eased and swooned her with complimentary words and promises of aid. He had offered to let her borrow the map, to help track her current location and where she needed to go. What he didn't know was that her playful touching of his leg gave the advantage for her other seizing hand to snatch the wad of cash sticking out from the outside pocket of his backpack.

At first, when he confessed the turn of events, Misty and Ash had been rather understanding. Underneath the layer of sympathy and vexation towards the flirtatious deceiver, Brock recognized there was a lingering disappointment as he was unable to see through her act. And, in the back of his mind, he had been dreading to be the one to tell Mrs. Ketchum what had happened. After all, he was the oldest, the most responsible and reliable one of the group. He was entrusted with the money. And to be the one to lose it...

"Fine," Brock declared flatly, knowing there was no sense in denying his fault. "Ya got me. But still, if we hadn't spent so much time on that path we wouldn't have run into her."

"Sounds like you're creating excuses just like Ash," Misty remarked.

"That's not what I'm trying to do, Misty," Brock clarified with a shake of his head. Then, he sighed. "It's just she was so beautiful and captivating and sad and... convincing. Those tears looked real!"

"Well, that's just great," the redhead huffed sardonically, slapping her hands against her sides. "Ash is fascinated with anything that's shiny and can be found in the Pokedex and you're allured by curvy con-artists."

"And _you're_ Miss Negative Nancy!" Ash blurted, keeping the line of faults evenly distributed.

"At least I'm realistic!" she clumsily deterred.

"And pessimistic. Honestly Misty," he started again, peering at her incredulously, "you seriously don't think I can control myself?"

"Well, you certainly can't manage time let alone responsibility. You've proved that time and time again!"

_That does it!_

The preteen whipped his head back at the snide redhead, ready to fire. "Then- then I'll show you!" he managed to sputter.

"You wanna bet?" Misty snorted.

At that moment, the tone of Misty's words sunk deep within Ash. _Sure, _he thought with a surge of blinding confidence. _Why not? _

"Yeah," he eventually said. The certainty in his voice and tone rose. "Yeah! I do!"

As if there was a definite existence of this otherworldly perception, Brock's spider-sense tingled with timorous anticipation, quickly taking action. He had stood on the sidelines long enough and now seeing how matters were about to escalation, it was best for him to put out the wildfire before it destroyed everything in its path.

"Whoa!" the older trainer shouted, taking each hand to grapple the other one's shoulder. "C'mon guys, this is getting ridiculous-"

"You stay out of this, Brock!" they both ordered in unison.

Unmoved by Brock's stupefied state, Misty fixated back onto Ash, ready to hear his proposition. "Fine," she started with an air of arrogance. "What kind of bet are you proposing Mr. Big Mouth?"

"A test of willpower," Ash answered, liking the idea of it all the more. "Let's see who can last longer. I won't get into any pokemon battles, Brock won't flirt with any girls, and _you will _stop complaining and griping until we get into the next town!"

"Ooooh," Misty chided, "you wanna challenge me to that, do ya? All right! But there needs to be some terms and conditions. No loopholes."

He nodded. "Name your rules."

Brock's heartbeat rose with grave persuasion. "Guys, I'm telling you, this isn't a good-"

"First, we need to decide what the winner gets," Misty pointed out, tapping a thoughtful finger to her lips.

"Oh, right." He went into his own train of thought, briefly racking his brain as he took hold of his chin. Then it came to him, his face lighting up. "How 'bout winner gets to pick out where to have our next meal _plus_ gets to decide where we go and what we do first! _And_ losers have to pay for the meal. Whada ya, say?"

"That's fine with me," Misty agreed. She then looked to her right. "Brock?"

"Yes?-"

"Good."

"Wait!"

"Is that all?"

"Nope," Misty answered Ash. She wasn't about to close the deal without a few clarifications. If this bet was going to come into fruition, boundaries needed to be placed for all participants to have an equal and fair chance to win. "When you say 'any pokemon battles' that includes trainers _and_ wild pokemon. Especially any shiny disgusting bug types!

"And Brock, flirting with girls includes chasing after them, touching, hand gestures, flowery language, acts of chivalry, the whole shebang. You need to treat every girl we meet as you would me."

"But that means he has to treat all girls like they're boys," Ash joshed, his teasing nature showing through his wide and catty smile.

A simple roll of her sea-green eyes was given in his direction. "And you're dirty magazines count too," Misty made clear to the bamboozled Brock. "You aren't going to get by and cope with a crutch when we're not looking."

"What dirty magazines?" he nearly choked on his nervous laughter, as he helplessly shrugged. He wondered if his cheeks looked as flush as they felt. "I- I don't know what you're talking about!"

"You know what's she's talking about, Brock," Ash piped up, confused by his friend's denial. "The ones you showed me with that pretty blonde girl you like. Bunny was her name? Wasn't she the one in that polka-dot bikini?-"

"ASH!"

At a time like this, did he have to recall that many specifics? Playing big brother, Brock thought it was about time to show his maturing companion the intricacy and appreciation of the female form. Okay, so he hadn't exactly _intended_ on showing him anything. But after being spooked by Ash in the early hours of the night by the campfire, who returned from a bathroom trip into the woods, Brock couldn't tactfully hide his stash of pinup magazines. At the time, Ash didn't appear too interested, more so wanting shuteye than anything. Despite his sleepy eyes and constant yawning, Ash had apparently paid more heed to those magazines than he originally thought.

A cocked eyebrow was thrown in Brock's direction. Despite the positive qualities of the young man's character, Misty wasn't surprised he had those objectifying magazines in his possession. She had known about them for months now. Watching him rifle through the checkout stands at the supermarkets claiming he was looking for the latest tour guide book was a dead giveaway in itself. What surprised her more so was Ash's detailed memory... and her name. Or more befitting alias.

"Bunny, Brock?" Misty echoed._ Just saying the name sounds ridiculous. __"Really_?"

There was a long pause.

"Don't judge me!" he eventually cried, pitifully.

Closing her eyes, the redhead sighed. _I should have known. _"All right," she started with another sigh, extending her hand out. "Hand 'em over."

Terrified by the impending threat, Brock raced to his backpack and backed away from Misty's gesturing hand to come forward. He shook his head with resolute rebellion. "C'mon, don't make me leave them behind!" he begged, fearing the worst, that his precious foldouts would meet a muddy and watery demise. "Bunny's too hot to just abandon!"

"I'm not that cruel," Misty defended, snatching the backpack away with one swipe. She then undid the zipper, rifling through the contents, removing them from their sanctuary one at a time. "As much as I find them distasteful, I will keep them in my backpack at all times, just to save you from the temptation."

"Well, in that case," Brock suddenly proposed, waltzing past Misty and ventured to the other bags. From there, he crouched down before Ash's backpack and followed similar actions as Misty. "To make sure Ash doesn't cheat either, I will happily confiscate his unused pokeballs."

With tight fists at his side, Ash stood gobsmacked. "C'mon Brock," Ash moaned, "don't you trust me?"

"I want to but... I don't want to suffer alone either!" he admitted with a light stream of tears at his own personal loss. "In fact, I didn't wanna participate in this crazy bet in the first place!"

"Well, you're part of it now!" Misty snapped. Once successfully confiscating the provocative magazines, Misty moved them into her red backpack. It was a tight fit, but she made it work, pulling the drawstring closed. "You know," she quietly mused, rising to her feet, "this might actually do us all some good."

"That might be the first thing we've agreed on all morning, Misty," Ash was the first to reply.

"Good. I'm glad you're coming around."

"Me too. At least our ears will get a well-deserved break from all your shrill whining."

"_What_ did you just _say_-"

"Uh-uh-uh," Ash tsk-tsked with a smile, wagging his finger slowly from side to side. He was tickled pink by the tightening irritation in Misty's face. "Once we shake on it, you gotta be nothin' but sunshine and rainbows, Misty."

"I'm well aware!"

"I hope so. 'Cause you're gonna look _real funny_ when I win!"

"Maybe- if your perpetual cockiness doesn't get in the way."

It was then Ash's perpetual cockiness tuned out the warning in Misty's words and voice. Ash was no stranger to the temptations of inflated egos bets had the territory of creating. Before his traveling days, he had plenty of experience in the manifesto of competition back in Pallet. The blooming art of bets started with neighborhood boys. Childish but equally dangerous games of who could hold their breath the longest to who could slide the fastest down one of the many rolling hills without falling on their handmade skateboards, to who dared to clip the tops off of Mrs. Abbot's tulips without being caught. Of course, Ash was selective in his participation. He was never a fan of afflicting pain or upset onto an innocent party. But when it came to outdoing Gary Oak, he took the bait every. single. _time_. Now thinking back on them though, Ash couldn't recall a time where he had actually won a bet against his rival. When the sun set, he never went back with gleeful pride of pockets full of dollar bills. Instead, he usually came home with bruises and bumps accompanied by frets and scoldings from his mother.

But this time was different. There was no Gary and his mother wasn't around to talk him out of it. Ash felt he had an advantage to this little game. Neither Brock nor Misty knew about his past failed bets. And if anything was to be made positive out of his losses, it was that they had least gave him practice for something as serious as giving up pokemon battles!

"I've battled enough to where I'm already prepared for the next gym match," he commented, building up his confidence to where he wouldn't fret turning down an impending match. "This will be a cinch! Won't it, Pikachu?" he asked with a smile and positive thumbs-up.

"Pikapi..." As much as he wanted to believe in his trainer, Pikachu saw no sense in this little bet. And he wasn't the only one either.

_I hear you, Pikachu,_ Brock consoled silently with another shake of his head._ I_ _hear you. I didn't want to be dragged into this either. I just wanted to eat breakfast in peace, pack up and go!_

No matter how much he protested, Brock feared there would be no sufficient way in talking Misty or Ash out of this. They were both hot-tempered and stubborn when it came to proving the other victoriously right. If he had to look at the situation from the glass half full perspective, perhaps this would teach both of them a lesson.

"All right. Whatever," the older trainer soon caved in. "Let's just get this over with so we can go find our laundry." _Besides, how many pretty girls can be out in the middle of the woods? Okay, MAYBE we have run into a few now and again. Not that I care about winning or anything... Still, at least one of us guys SHOULD prove to Misty we've got a good head on our shoulders. Not that I need her approval... But it would be satisfying and MAYBE it will do me some good... Oh, who am I kidding? This is gonna be hell! _

"Brock's right," Misty concurred, unaware of the pain the young man's inner dialogue was causing him. "The sooner we shake on it, the sooner our bet can begin."

"And the sooner I can get my magazines back!" Brock abruptly declared.

Met with matching inflated confidence Ash prepared himself for the shake to make it official. "All right, then let's do it."

Promptly he removed a finger-less glove from his right hand, ceremoniously spat on it, and then held it out for Misty to simply accept. The primitive sound of wet lips shooting saliva instantly drew Misty back, her face constricting into a mildly revolted expression.

Drawing her hand back, she recoiled at the barbaric tradition that had been passed down for what seemed like centuries among prepubescent boys. "Uggh," she grumbled, turning her head slightly with a scrunched up nose.

Ash took boyish delight in the repulsion on Misty's face. "What's the matter, Mist? You're not afraid of a little spit, are ya?" he poked fun, knowing very well what he had done.

"No," she declared, straightening her back. A shiver went up her spine. By no means was she afraid of stepping out of the conventional box of 'girly things'. Climbing trees, fishing, scraping up a knee now and again, none of that was ever a plight. But, conjuring a wad of spit- to puerile for her tastes. However, in this instance, she had a challenge on her hands and would do whatever the challenged called for. _Including _taking Ash off guard.

From cheek to cheek, the sound of liquid swishing in her mouth alerted Ash. Wide chocolate eyes observed a larger than life viscous gob plop right into her open palm. She cringed inwardly but smiled proudly at her ostentatious move.

"And _you_ shouldn't be afraid of catching my so-called 'cooties' either," she threw back with a playful glimmer in her eyes.

Once their hands clamped in a tight slimy hold, their fate was sealed. And so, if Brock had to commit to such a petty match of willpower just to get through to the next town, he had only one simple request.

"Can you both _please_ refrain from spitting when it's my turn to shake hands?"

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

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**Author's Note Count.: **Thank you to everyone who read part one! :) I hope you all enjoyed it and appreciate your continuous support. Part two will feature Jessie, James, and Meowth. Hehe! We shall see what their bets are... Until then! Toodles!


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